The Gantlet (stand alone)
by Red O'Toole
Summary: Pre-series. The Devil's Hole Gang is being hotly pursued by a posse and the only escape route is through Indian Territory. Wheat protests, but is overridden by Heyes. They are captured and Heyes must prove his courage and live to secure the gang's freedom.


The Gantlet

The Devil's Hole gang rode hell-bent-for-leather, leaning forward and whipping their flagging horses with their reins hoping for a last burst of speed that would allow them to outrace the relentless posse that kept gaining on them bit by bit. It was painfully obvious to them all that if something drastic didn't happen the end was a foregone conclusion.

It had been a good plan, well thought out, organized down to the last detail, everyone well rehearsed in their part, in short, a Hannibal Heyes plan, and nothing _should_ have gone wrong, yet something had. Somehow they had been anticipated and a posse had lain in wait for them in the little town of Cooper, scuttling the plan before its genius had been realized! Not only that, but a _second_ posse had blocked their way into Devil's Hole and now worked in a relay fashion with the first posse so that their horses remained somewhat fresh, thus wearing down the mounts of the outlaw gang.

It, too, was a well thought out plan, worthy of the genius of Heyes and had the outlaw leader not been in a desperate race with his freedom at stake, he'd have congratulated the man who had laid it out. Then again, if he couldn't come up with something soon, Heyes knew he might just get the chance to do just that!

They had rounded a bend and were temporarily out of sight of the posse when sudden inspiration hit the gang leader. He slowed his horse and reined it sharply off the beaten track and into a narrow divide between the hills and onto a faint animal track that wound its way up into the tree clad hills and out of habit the rest of the gang followed. By necessity they had to go slower, but they had soon gained the cover of the trees. Heyes knew this wouldn't fool the posses and that their tracks would be found and followed, but he hoped the members of the posse knew what he knew and wouldn't be willing to take the same chance.

"Hold up, Heyes!" Wheat's distinctive voice called from within the pack.

Heyes reined his horse in and around to face the members of his gang. His partner and right hand man, his best friend from childhood, Kid Curry, who had been right behind him, also turned to face the other men, close at Heyes' side to back him up as always. His baby face was poker straight, but Heyes, who knew him so well, could see the worry in the clear blue eyes. "What is it, Wheat?" Heyes asked. "I know I don't need to remind you we ain't got time t'waste with that posse on our trail!"

"No, but do _you_ know where you're leadin' us? You _know_ these here hills is Injun territory, don't ya?" the mustachioed outlaw spat out.

"Yeah, Wheat, I know that," Heyes replied calmly.

"Then what for you leadin' us this way?"

"I figure the whole territory hereabouts knows this is Injun territory an' that's what I'm countin' on."

"You countin' on gettin' us _killed_ by Injuns 'stead o'caught by th'law?" Wheat was working up a full head of indignation that caused his eyes to near pop out of his head.

"No, but I am countin' on those law abidin' family men in that posse t'not wanna _risk_ gettin' themselves killed by Injuns! I figure they'll call off the chase once they figure the Injuns'll take care of us!"

"Are you outta your _mind_, Heyes?" the older outlaw squawked while the rest of the gang murmured to each other in consternation. "This is the most dang-fool idea you ever had!"

"Wheat," Curry said quietly, the warning apparent in that one word.

"No offense, Kid, but I figure we got a better chance o'outrunnin' a posse than makin' it through these hills alive!"

"Where we runnin' _to_, Wheat? We're only gettin' farther an' farther away from the Hole! We make it through these hills an' we can circle back around the posse and get into the Hole without 'em ever knowin'!"

"Ain't you forgettin' th'Injuns?"

"No, but there's a chance they won't notice we're here - - there ain't _no_ chance of avoidin' that posse much longer!"

Wheat snorted his disbelief. "You ever heard o'Injuns not noticin' trespassers?"

"We ain't got much time, Wheat - - we need t'get deeper under cover - - so you're welcome to go back an' keep runnin', or take your chance with me and the Injuns! That goes for the rest of you, too! Decide now for yourselves, but _I'm_ goin' this way!"

"An' I'm goin' with 'im," Curry declared.

Heyes reined his horse back around, as did Kid Curry, and they continued riding up the hill and deeper into the trees. Neither were surprised as one by one the other outlaws fell in line behind them.

The trail wound around the hill as it climbed at a fairly gentle incline that allowed the riders to maintain a quicker pace than a walk just in case the posse was more determined than Heyes figured them to be. It would have been a pleasant ride had their nerves not been on edge first from the danger of the posse and now the added worry of the possibility of sudden death from a silent arrow. Paranoia kept the outlaws silent, their eyes swiveling side to side searching the shadows for any skulking figures.

Heyes knew better than to relax his guard as they topped the first hill without any incidents, but a tiny hope began to grow that this plan born of desperation wouldn't end in disaster - - a hope dashed to tiny pieces as a group of Apache braves suddenly materialized in front of them! They jerked squealing horses around to attempt an escape only to find their way blocked by another group of braves, arrows nocked to bows. Curry, Wheat, and Lobo had their guns drawn instantly, ready to fire, when Heyes, envisioning the slaughter of his men, kicked his horse harshly into a frantic bound to the front, physically putting himself and his horse in the line of fire. He raised one hand, shouting, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! You'll get us all killed!"

Momentarily distracted, Wheat stared at his leader incredulously and retorted, "What're you talkin' about, Heyes? Shootin's the only way any of us is gonna get outta here alive!"

"They ain't shot anybody _yet_, Wheat, when we _all_ coulda been dead without ever even _seein'_ 'em! So put your guns away an' maybe we can talk our way out!" Heyes insisted.

"If ever you had a silver tongue, Heyes, now'd sure be the time t'use it!" Curry replied, dropping his gun back into its holster.

Wheat and Lobo still hesitated, but a moment later followed suit, though grudgingly. "If you've done gotten us killed, Heyes, I ain't never gonna let you forget it!" grumbled Wheat.

Heyes passed on retorting on the pure nonsense of Wheat's comment and turned his focus on their dilemma. He scanned the unreadable faces of the Apaches surrounding them hoping for some friendly sign, or some inspiration, but there was neither.

Curry moved his horse closer to his partner's and leaned over to say softly, "These fellas'd be great poker players!"

Heyes shot a glance at his friend and saw the little smile, but, more than that, the simple trust in his eyes that Hannibal Heyes would come up with a plan. He smiled slightly in return and replied, "You sure got that right, Kid!"

With no better ideas, the outlaw leader took a deep breath and called out to the still unmoving braves, "Any of you speak English?"

Still none of the Apaches spoke, but one gestured towards the trail in the direction they had been going and then turned his horse in that direction. The other braves followed suit, closing in on the outlaws and effectively herding them down the trail.

Another hour of riding brought the group into a secluded valley where clustered fifteen or twenty teepees. The small Apache village was filled with activity - - women going about their workaday tasks, children playing, dogs running around barking - - all of which came to a complete halt as the band of braves and their captives rode in. All eyes were turned to the group of white men. All wore looks of suspicion, anger, or outright hatred - - all but the children who were merely curious.

They were herded as far as the center of the village where they stopped. Another silent gesture indicated they were to get down from their horses. Heyes hesitated, knowing their chances of escape would be drastically reduced on foot, but an ungentle jab with the point of an arrow reminded him they weren't in any position to argue.

"Okay, boys, off your horses," he ordered the gang.

After they had dismounted, a barked command from the brave who had brought them in had his companions quickly disarming the outlaws.

"Well, don't this just get better an' better!" Wheat grumbled sarcastically as his six-gun was plucked from his holster.

"Don' worry, Wheat," Kyle spoke up for the first time. "Heyes'll have a plan, won't ya, Heyes?"

The little outlaw's simple faith in his leader tore at Heyes' heart and he could bring him to burst that trust by admitting he had absolutely _no_ idea how he was going to get them out of this mess, so he reassured the other outlaw by saying, "I'll find a way t'get us outta this _somehow_, Kyle."

"_See_, Wheat?"

Wheat only snorted his disbelief.

They stood in front of a teepee that was lavishly decorated with arcane symbols and fanciful animals and from the flap emerged an Apache that looked to be well into his middle years judging by his weathered face and the gray sprinkled through his long jet black hair, but his carriage was proudly erect, his bare torso showing taut well-defined muscles. He wore fringed buckskin leggings tucked into calf-high laced moccasins and a colorfully woven breechclout. His black eyes were unreadable as he stared at the group of white men. He spoke briefly to the younger brave - - a question it seemed as the brave replied for a longer time, his words accompanied by several gestures towards the group of outlaws, once obviously pointing at Heyes.

At the end of the brave's words, the older man, possibly the chief, continued to stare silently while the outlaws grew increasingly tense. Finally, he stepped closer to Heyes and said, "You are the chief of these men?" Seeing the outlaw leader's surprise at being addressed in his own language, he continued before Heyes could gather his wits and respond. "Yes, I speak your tongue. I was taught well by the padres as a young child. You are the leader of these men?" he repeated.

"Yes, I am," Heyes replied, relieved that communication wouldn't be a problem.

"Why do you trespass on our land?"

"We were bein' chased an' the only way to avoid gettin' caught was through your land. We mean no harm," Heyes explained briefly.

"My son tells me you stopped your men from firing their guns. Why?"

"As I said, we mean no harm. We ain't got a quarrel with you - - we just wanna get home."

The Apache studied him intently and then the others in the gang. "You are what the white eyes call outlaws then," he stated as a matter of fact. "I do not care that you have broken the white man's law for their law is as their word - - smoke on the wind. But you have broken the Apache law and trespassed and for that the punishment is _death_!"

Heyes raised a hand to stop the angry protests that began from the men behind him and said, "It was _my_ decision to lead them here - - the fault lies only with me! Punish me if you must, but let them go!"

Curry grabbed his partner's arm and hissed, "You can't do that, Heyes!" 

"Yes, I can, Kid," Heyes retorted. "I got you men into this, it's my responsibility t'get you out!"

"But . . ." Curry began only to be quelled by the look from his friend's eyes.

"Do we have a deal?" Heyes asked the Apache chief.

"I see you are a true leader of men," the Indian said with a satisfied nod. "I would offer you a way to win the freedom of your men _and_ yourself."

"I'll do it. What do I hafta do?" Heyes accepted immediately realizing instinctively that this would be the only chance offered.

"You must pass a test of courage and strength. If you succeed you and your men will be allowed to cross our land in peace."

"What is this test?"

"You must walk the gantlet and survive."

"I don't understand."

"If you agree, all will be made clear."

"Of course I agree!"

The Apache nodded his approval of Heyes' decision. "You will be taken to a place to wait while we prepare." The chief spoke briefly again to the brave, who Heyes now knew to be his son, and the braves herded the outlaws to a teepee towards the back and were gestured inside.

The flap closed behind them, leaving them in a dim space, the only place to sit the hard-packed dirt floor. Released from tension, Heyes' legs felt rubbery and he sat cross-legged on the floor. Curry squatted beside him, concern in his eyes. "Do you know what you're doin', Heyes?"

Heyes turned weary brown eyes on his right hand man and sighed, "The only thing I _can_ do, Kid!"

"You don't know what this 'gantlet' is?"

The dark head shook negatively. "All I know is for some reason the chief is offerin' us a chance an' I've gotta take it!"

"How long we gonna hafta wait?" Wheat complained.

"As long as it takes, Wheat!" Curry snapped, impatient with the other outlaw's constant questioning of his partner.

"You ain't so dangerous now without your gun, Kid," the older outlaw said belligerently.

"I don't need a gun t'take care of you, Wheat!" Curry replied darkly, rising to his feet.

"Stop it, you two! This ain't no time t'fight each other!" Heyes ordered.

"Yeah, Wheat, Heyes ain't never let us down yet!" Kyle supplied loyally.

"We ain't never been in a situation like _this_ before neither!" Wheat countered.

"Wheat, I'm gonna get us all out of this mess!" Heyes assured the outlaw.

"But you don't know what it is you're gonna hafta do yet, Heyes," Lobo put in. "I've heared the Injuns can come up with some dio-boll-ical tortures!"

In spite of the situation, Heyes had to grin at the other outlaw's struggle over the pronunciation of 'diabolical'. "No, Lobo, I may not know exactly what the chief has in mind, but I _do_ know that they value courage so whatever they do I've gotta not show fear! It's also a test of strength, which they also value, an' maybe all I've gotta do t'prove _that_ is t'survive, which I mean t'do! Now, if y'don't mind, could I have a little quiet t'think?"

"Sure, Heyes, no problem!" Kyle replied. "C'mon, fellas, let's go over here an' give Heyes his space! Who's got th'cards?"

Grudgingly the gang moved away leaving Heyes still sitting on the floor and Curry squatting back down beside him, saying nothing, but just being there in case he was needed.

It was only an hour later when the tent flap was opened and it was indicated that they should come out. Heyes led the way, blinking in the sudden brightness. They were ushered back to the center of the small village, where the entire village waited for them in anticipatory silence. A double line of warriors, twenty to each side, stood facing each other a double arm span apart. At the head of this group stood the chief.

"You will make bare your chest and back," he ordered as Heyes stopped in front of him.

Not questioning, Heyes did as he was told, stripping off his shirt and henley and handing them to Curry for safekeeping; as a second thought he added his hat. "All right, I'm ready," he said.

The chief nodded his satisfaction. "The test is this: you must walk between the line of warriors. They will strike you and keep striking you until you pass. You must survive this to prove your strength. If you fall, you will die! They will do their best to strike fear into your heart. If you show fear, you will die! Do you see your horse?" Heyes looked and saw his horse tied at the further end of the line of braves and nodded. "If you reach your horse alive, you and your men will go free. Do you still accept this challenge?"

"I accept," Heyes replied.

"Begin," the Apache ordered.

Heyes moved into place, casting a quick look at his men, seeing the worry on the Kid's face, the skepticism on Wheat's, and the optimistic grin on Kyle's face as he gave his leader a thumbs up in encouragement. As he took his first step, the entire tribe began whooping and screaming as if on the warpath and his heart skipped a beat before it began racing, adrenalin pumping into his blood stream, yet he maintained his poker face. This caterwauling continued as he took another step and then the beating began. Each warrior was armed with either a braided leather thong into which had been embedded thorns, or bits of broken glass, or flint, or a thick, but still flexible branch from which the smaller branches had been cut except for a sharp stub. These struck the tender flesh of his chest and back raising red welts and leaving dozens of tiny bleeding cuts until Heyes felt his entire body was on fire from the pain and it was all he could do to keep his teeth clenched to maintain his silence. One errant lash licked an eyebrow and blood poured down into his eye, effectively blinding him on that side. He forced his feet to keep moving down the line and strong arms attempted to flay the skin from his upper body. He staggered and the whoops increased in intensity, but he kept his feet - - he had passed a third of the way. Suddenly from between two warriors leaped another, his face painted fearsomely and as he screamed he lunged at Heyes with a knife! It took everything Heyes had to maintain his stoic face and prevent himself from leaping backwards reflexively as the knife blade cut shallowly along his ribs. Then the warrior was gone and he was left with the flails beating him mercilessly. He had gone two thirds of the way and felt his strength failing when another warrior leaped screaming at him again, followed closely by another, this time wielding lances which they thrust at him several times, coming close but not connecting, attempting to make him show fear at which time the lances would have been thrust through his body, ending the test. Heyes disappointed them and he paced steadily forward, his eyes focused on his goal while he forced his mind to ignore the pain, searching his mind for pleasant memories on which he could dwell until his ordeal was over. His vision blurred until he could only see where to put his next foot and so it was with surprise that he suddenly bumped into something large and unmoving and his ears rang with the sudden silence. He blinked his eyes clear and saw that he had run into his horse - - he had survived the gantlet! He reached up and hooked his hand around the saddle horn to keep himself from collapsing to the ground, not sure if that would still constitute failure.

"Yahoo!"

"Way t'go, Heyes!"

He heard the cheers from his men and suddenly they were there all around him, grinning with pride in their leader. All but Curry whose eyes reflected the horror of what he had just seen his best friend endure on their behalf. Heyes tried to smile to reassure him, but it was more a grimace of pain.

The outlaws became silent and moved aside as the Apache chief approached. His lips bore the ghost of a smile as he stood before the badly beaten outlaw. "Well done," he said. "You are the first I have seen to have survived the gantlet. You are a worthy leader - - strong and fearless! You and your men may cross our land in peace!"

"Thank you," Heyes gasped through his panted breaths. To his surprise he saw the Indian reach out his hand and when he extended his own the warrior clasped his wrist and forearm in a strong grip, which Heyes mimicked though with less strength.

"May the Great Spirit watch over you," the Indian said, releasing his grip and turning to walk away, followed by his people.

"Let's get out of here," the outlaw leader gasped.

"You don't gotta tell _me_ twice!" Kyle exclaimed and mounted his horse. The other outlaws followed suit until only Heyes and Curry were afoot.

"You need t'be patched up, Heyes," Curry said.

"Later, Kid," Heyes replied and attempted to straighten up and lift his foot to the stirrup, failing miserably. "I think I might need a hand up, Kid," he whispered.

Curry eased his friend's foot up into the stirrup and then boosted him up until he could drag his other leg across the saddle to drop to the other side. The Kid made sure that foot was firmly in the stirrup, too, before mounting his own horse. Then he reached over and laid Heyes' shirt across his shoulders to provide a measure of protection to the damaged skin and settled the black hat on the dark head. "You ready, Heyes?"

Heyes took several deep breaths and straightened in his saddle, gathering the reins in his hands. "I'm ready. Let's go home."

The End


End file.
